The Only Girl in the World
by JustAnotherPseudonym
Summary: AU a story pitched to me based on the idea of what if Quinn Fabray really was Supergirl?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer and Other stuff: This is AU almost a spinoff of "what if" from my other unfinished work Campaign of Shock and Awe. The premise was pitched to me by EnsignRoLaren**. **The premise is simple: What if Quinn really was Supergirl? This is my response to it. Please don't expect regular updates or anything but I'm offering what I've got. We can take the ride together and see where it goes. Much love to you all.**

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There is a purpose in life a purpose for _her _life and it's not to save the world for all of Human Kind. It's just to protect the world for the handful of people that are in it that mean everything to her. At least, that's how the whole saving the world thing began. She just wanted to protect her family, her friends and Rachel...always Rachel. Quinn Fabray needed to make the world a safer place for them, and sometimes doing that meant her standing in the background blending in with the crowd. Sometimes it meant watching the life she wanted pass her by. Sometimes it meant watching the girl she was in love with walking hand in hand with someone else. Sometimes it meant a broken heart.

"Are you even listening to me?" Rachel asked irritated that her best friend seemed to be ignoring her. "I have to tell someone about my first date with Finn."

Quinn blinked a couple of times and then refocused her attention on the girl walking beside her. "Of course I'm listening." She didn't know how to _not _listen. Every word, whether intentional or not, meant something more than the syllables that compiled them.

"So he told me to meet him in the auditorium after school," Rachel carried on as she saw Quinn's attention drawn back to her. "He had a picnic laid out for us and he brought sparkling cider and…"

Quinn didn't need to hear the details. She already knew them because she's the one that had handed Finn Hudson Rachel's perfect date on a silver platter. She had held his hand as he fidgeted through deciding what 'kind' of girl Rachel was and the sorts of things Rachel would enjoy. He liked her, he really did and he was so eager to not screw anything up that Quinn couldn't deny him aid when he asked for it.

Letting him trip over his own thoughtless planning would have been selfish. It would have fed into Quinn's desire to see Finn fail and it would have allowed her to not sit beside Rachel during lunch break and hear her best friend pontificate about her best date ever with the best boy ever. It would have saved her from the tiny pricks to the heart each happy word that escaped Rachel's mouth caused Quinn.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it, Rach," Quinn uttered, not quite sure if she was interrupting Rachel's story, but needing it to end. "You deserve it."

Rachel's eyes widened, caught off guard by Quinn's abrupt interruption. She reached out and covered Quinn's hand with her own. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," Quinn whispered. "It's Monday; I'm just tired."

Rachel looked over her childhood friend. They had grown up together and she took some pride in knowing when her best friend wasn't okay. "Are you sure? You seem…distracted."

Quinn started to reply, but her words were halted as she heard…something that didn't sound quite right. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "I think I forgot my homework in my locker. I need to get it," she rushed out an explanation before she hurriedly stood and then rushed out of the cafeteria. She kept walking until she was well away from any curious eyes, and then she looked up at the sky and flew away.

* * *

Quinn arrived at the scene of the accident before the authorities. She quickly assessed the situation, seeing the overturned vehicle and the gasoline pouring from the ruptured gas tank. Gasoline bled onto the pavement and already a small spark had caused the gas to ignite. Without thought, she sped towards the overturned vehicle needing to save the unfortunate person who might be caught inside. She came to an abrupt halt when her eyes looked over the passengers and she could see that they were clearly already dead.

She was too late.

"Damn it!" She cursed as she hit the side of the car in her frustration. "God damn it!"

She couldn't understand why her life had to be so unfair. Of all the days, she needed this…one thing in her life to not suck. She had chosen to let Rachel go because of this and even _this_ she couldn't get right.

Sirens began blaring in the distance, drawing closer by each passing second. Quinn looked around at the fire that engulfed her but didn't burn her skin and then back at the young man who was staring blankly at his failed rescuer. She shook her head and then quickly blew out the fire.

Reverently, she unbuckled the young man from his seat. She removed his body from the vehicle and then laid him out on the pavement. She looked him over once more, wishing she could have done something to make everything better. The sirens continued to grow closer and she knew that she was running out of time. So, she reached down and closed the stranger's vacant eyes and then took off again.

She returned to the school just in time for Algebra. She quickly took her seat behind Rachel and did her best to focus her attention on Mrs. Atwood instead of the scene she had just left. She tapped her pencil against the edge of her desk as she pretended to take notes drawing Rachel's attention.

Rachel looked over her friend once more and then abruptly raised her hand, "Mrs. Atwood, Quinn and I need to be excused."

Accustomed to Rachel's unusual outburst, Mrs. Atwood raised her brow at the interruption but didn't offer any reprimand. "Don't forget to take the hall pass," she muttered before returning to her lecture.

Rachel stood and then reached over and grabbed onto Quinn's hand.

"Rachel," Quinn quickly protested, "don't."

Rachel raised a challenging eyebrow. Quinn rolled her eyes but allowed Rachel to pull her out of her seat and then out of the classroom.

Quinn pulled her hand out of Rachel's as soon as they had exited. "What!"

Undisturbed by Quinn's ire, Rachel placed her hands on her hips clearly indignant. "You are clearly under distress, Quinn."

"It's Algebra," Quinn shrugged. "Everyone is under distress in there. Have you seen what Mrs. Atwood is wearing?"

Rachel leveled Quinn with a disbelieving look. "You aren't a very good liar."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn narrowed her eyes. "I'm an excellent liar."

Rachel's right hand dropped from her waist. She reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers against Quinn's left cheek. She brushed her fingers against soft skin and Quinn couldn't help but close her eyes. She couldn't but help but take comfort in the contact no matter how brief.

"Is that soot?" Rachel asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "How did you end up with soot on your face?"

Quinn's eyes fluttered open and she looked down at the tips of Rachel's fingers that were covered in a fine layer of dark dust. "I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"Quinn…" Rachel began but was interrupted by Finn yelling her name from halfway down the hallway. He hurried his long gait so that he could get closer to the two girls obviously in intense conversation.

"Hey, Rachel," he said again. "Uh, what are you doing out here? I thought you had class." His eyes quickly swept over Quinn. "Hi, Quinn," he added almost as an afterthought.

"Hello, Finn." Rachel stepped away from Quinn.

Quinn looked between her best friend and the boy. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm going to the bathroom," she muttered and then walked away. She could feel Rachel's eyes following her, but also felt when their attention turned away from her and towards Finn Hudson.

A part of her had hoped that Rachel would chase after her and demand answers, and a part of her was broken hearted that Rachel stood still and fell giddy at Finn's untimely….timely appearance. Quinn roughly pushed open the bathroom door. She walked to the sink and then carefully looked over her face. Whatever dirt had been there from the car wreck Rachel had already wiped away.

Quinn closed her eyes and leaned onto the sink. She tried to focus on the silence around her, but instead found herself focusing on the conversation that was taking place too close to the girl's bathroom. At least, it was too close for her.

She could hear Finn Hudson stumbling through asking Rachel out again. She could hear Rachel's excitement as the invitation was accepted. She could hear the pieces of a normal life that she wanted fade further away.

Quinn reopened her eyes. She took in a deep breath and looked back into the mirror at her reflection.

"Buck up, Supergirl," she told herself. "There's a world to save."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer and Other Stuff: Thank you for your reviews. Just to clear some stuff up, this is loosely based on Glee and loosely based on Supergirl. I'm taking liberties with both genres. Enjoy. **

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Lying under the stars gave Quinn a sense of calm. It reminded her that she was, in some small way just like everybody else. She was just a tiny speck taking up space in the universe, not really all that important in the grand scheme of things.

Quinn spread her fingers out against the long blades of grass. She let the edges tickle her hands and the moisture soak her skin. A cool wind blew in from the North and brought with it the smells of an early winter.

Another year was quickly passing her by and lately time seemed as if it was blending together. It was almost as if that when she discovered she had super speed that time seemed to speed up with her. Everything had happened so suddenly and she was still trying to catch up.

She knew she was too young to be nostalgic, but with…everything she didn't know how not to think of the better days of years past. She couldn't help but think about how she and Rachel would run hand and hand through the grass exploring the fields together. She couldn't help but think about lying under the stars with her best friend telling stories about how they pictured their lives would be when they were all grown up.

Rachel had always wanted to be a Superstar. She wanted to be in the spotlight. She wanted the world to pay attention to her. Her face would be on every magazine and she'd be the most sought after actor in the world.

Quinn envied Rachel her ambition. Quinn hadn't really known what she wanted to do with her life so had quickly agreed to travel the world with Rachel as Rachel sought out fame and fortune. She hadn't really wanted to be Super anything. But, since she couldn't decide on Fate it seemed as if Fate had decided on her.

She hadn't really noticed how different she was until she started middle school. She hadn't known that it wasn't normal to never be sick. She hadn't known that it was weird to be able to run without getting tired. She hadn't known how strong a little girl was supposed to be. She was just always…normal until she realized she wasn't.

She still remembered the exact moment she discovered how different she was. It was kind of stupid, really. Rachel had been pushed in gym class by an older girl. Quinn had immediately taken offense and had stepped in front of Rachel. The girl hadn't cared who she was picking on so she didn't hesitate to try and push Quinn as well, but Quinn had stopped her. She had pushed back and the other girl had fallen to the gym floor in a heap.

Quinn had immediately felt a sense of satisfaction, but the girl had started crying out in pain and Quinn's satisfaction quickly dissipated. When the girl had landed she twisted her arm and her shoulder had been dislocated. Everyone in gym class had looked at Quinn then. She was the center of attention and not because she was one of the prettiest girls in school.

That's when she knew that her strength could hurt people even while trying to help. That's when she knew she wasn't normal. She was different in so many ways.

And still, Quinn sighed, she was different. Way different and she still wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do with her life. She still envied Rachel her ambition.

Quinn clenched her fist and then slowly sat up. She heard footsteps approaching and didn't want to be caught stuck in nostalgia.

"Your mother told me where I could find you," a voice called out to her.

She turned towards the intruder. "She's too helpful sometimes."

"People around here can't help but be helpful," Santana looked down at Quinn who was still sitting on the ground. "It's like in their DNA or something."

Quinn shook her head and then stood up. "You were born here."

Santana shrugged. "Maybe it skips a generation."

"What do you want Santana?" Quinn asked as she brushed grass off of her clothing.

"You're like the Queen of Depression and it's becoming pathetic," Santana said her voice void of compassion. "You need to get your shit together."

"Is this your version of a pep talk?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Because if it is I can do without it."

"Don't insult me," Santana scoffed. "I don't do," she waved her hand around errantly, "feelings."

Quinn smirked. "Thank you for checking on me, but I'm fine."

"Fine," Santana shrugged. "But when your hair starts falling out from stress I'm going to tell you that I told you so."

Quinn looked over her friend. Her dark hair was blowing freely in the wind and her dark brown eyes held a hint of concern despite how hard she was trying to hide it. Quinn had known Santana just as long as she had known Rachel. They had all grown up together in the same small town stuck in the middle of nowhere.

They had all been friends at one time, but as they got older things seemed to just happen. Santana and Quinn became cheerleaders and Rachel became a theatre geek. The only reason Santana even acknowledged Rachel's existence anymore was because Quinn still did.

"Thanks for checking up on me." Quinn reached out and brushed her hand against Santana's arm.

"Whatever," Santana pulled away. "I just wanted to go for a walk."

Quinn nodded. "Let me walk you home."

Santana looked skeptically over Quinn's body. "Are _you_ going to protect me from the bad men?"

"Hey," Quinn objected, "I'm stronger than I look."

"I think you forget what side of the tracks I'm from." Santana rolled her shoulders.

"Fine," Quinn chuckled. "Then, I'll let you walk me home."

"Get walking," Santana ordered with a small smile.

They began walking and maintained silence for most of the way until Quinn quietly admitted, "I think I'm going to have to quit cheerleading."

"So you want to become a complete loser?" Santana asked, clearly confused. "You're doing this high school thing all wrong. You do know that, right? The point is to be popular," she drew out her last words as if she were speaking to a young child.

"I don't have time for it anymore," Quinn explained.

"What are you so busy with?" Santana asked incredulously. "A drug habit?"

"No!" Quinn lightly shoved Santana. "I have…things to do." She wanted to explain what all those 'things' were, but she knew she couldn't and she wouldn't even know how exactly to explain anything.

Santana reached out and grabbed onto Quinn's arm, pulling her to a stop. "Drugs will make you look ugly, Quinn. Do you want to be ugly?"

"God," Quinn groaned, "it's not drugs. I'm not on drugs." Though, if she displayed some of her super strength she was sure people would accuse of her taking performance enhancing drugs.

"Are you pregnant?" Santana whispered.

Quinn's jaw dropped. "No! I'm not pregnant. I just need some time to figure some stuff out okay?"

Santana leaned in closer to Quinn, her hand still gripping onto Quinn's arm. "Is this about Berry?"

"Why would this be about Rachel?" Quinn asked honestly curious why Santana was bringing up her best friend at all. They had an unspoken rule that they didn't discuss Rachel with each other. It kept Quinn from admitting that she was in love with her best friend and it kept Santana from having to actually be supportive about it.

"Yeah," Santana drew out the word. "Let's pretend you're not that stupid. You don't wear dumb blonde well."

Quinn pulled away from Santana. "Can't I just not want to be a cheerleader anymore?"

"Fine, do whatever you want." Santana started walking again. "I deserve the team captain spot anyway."

"Well, it's yours now." Quinn caught up to Santana. "I'm going to be busy doing other very interesting things."

"Don't do anything too crazy," Santana warned. "I'm not sure this small town can handle a big scandal."

Quinn didn't respond. She let the silence linger until they reached her house. They stood awkwardly outside of her front door, neither knowing exactly how to express their quiet affection for the other. It was Santana who broke their stalemate. "So, I hear that Berry is dating Finn Hudson."

Quinn nodded. "I am aware."

"So, that's kind of weird, huh?" Santana looked everywhere but at Quinn's face.

"It's good," Quinn whispered. "It's what she wants."

"Well okay, then." Santana harshly cleared her throat and clapped her hands. "Good." She waved and then started walking away. "I'll see you at school."

Quinn watched Santana walk down her parents' driveway and then walked into the house. She waited a few minutes before she stepped outside again. She went back into the night and then flew up into the air so that she could ensure that her friend got home safe and sound.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews. Thank you for reading. Thanks all around. **

Quinn walked down the empty hallways of her high school. Normally, she would have been on her way to cheerleading practice, but since she quit she didn't really have anywhere to go. No one was screaming out for help, no houses were on fire, and no one had fallen down any inconveniently placed wells. So, Quinn roamed around finding herself without purpose.

She turned down one hall and then another until she stood outside of the choir room. She looked through the window slit through the door and could see the glee club members singing and dancing around. Rachel was with them in front of the crowd. Her voice carried over the others.

Quinn listened to Rachel sing and quickly became caught up in the sound of Rachel's voice. She focused in on it and imagined for just a moment that Rachel's performance was for Quinn only. When Finn Hudson's voice stumbled in beside Rachel's Quinn scrunched up her forehead from the rude awakening from her day dreams.

She hadn't known that Finn had joined glee club. She had always considered him too monotone to step out of the mold and do something different. His severe case of boring was one of the reasons why Quinn had thought Finn was a good match for Rachel. He offered Rachel predictable stability. He wasn't supposed to be interesting. Quinn was interesting and knew that interesting was one of the main ingredients for dangerous. And, Quinn realized, that she couldn't just leave Rachel alone singing beside someone who was so…dangerous.

Quinn groaned as she leaned forward and rested her head against the door. "I am pathetic," she muttered knowing that her logic was flawed at best. She just didn't like Finn singing beside Rachel. She didn't like seeing him doing the things that she and Rachel could have done together if Quinn's life hadn't gotten so freaking complicated.

"I hear the club is still short of a full house," the voice startled Quinn causing her to jump away from the door. She turned to face the woman who had addressed her. Quinn had been so caught up in her pitiable state that she hadn't even heard anyone approach her.

"What?" Quinn dumbly asked.

"Glee club," the woman clarified nodding her head towards the closed door. "I hear they still need a few volunteers so that they can become legit."

Quinn's eyes widened and shook her head. "No, no, no," she pointed to herself, "I can't be in Glee club."

"But you can stand outside of the door and spy on rehearsals?" The woman smirked. "I'm not sure that makes sense."

Quinn shook her head again, uncomfortable with being confronted about what she had been doing. "Who are you anyway?" She asked trying to deflect the conversation away from her. "Are you just spying on high school students?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Touché, my random hallway friend." She offered out her left hand. "I'm Trinity Anderson. I'll be taking over Mrs. Cambell's English class while she's on maternity leave."

Quinn quickly swept her eyes across the other woman. Ms. Anderson's long dark hair framed a youthful face. She looked barely old enough to be out of high school. The only real indicator of her age was housed in her smoky grey eyes that displayed a wizened soul that Quinn felt somewhat compelled to know.

"Quinn," she introduced herself as she reached out and took the other woman's hand in her own. "Fabray."

Ms. Anderson softly gripped Quinn's hand and then quickly released it. "Well, it's nice to meet you Quinn." She stepped closer. "So, that thing standing between you and the inside of that room is called a door. Sometimes it's a barrier that can be a wall or a gateway," she shrugged. "It's sort of your choice."

Quinn looked at the closed door. "I don't think," she started to reply but stopped talking when she realized she didn't have much she could say that would make her sound any less like a complete idiot. She wasn't even entirely sure why she had started talking to Ms. Anderson in the first place.

"Either way," Ms. Anderson stepped away from the door, "I don't get paid overtime." She gave Quinn a short wave and then turned to walk away. "I'll see you around, Quinn."

As soon as Ms. Anderson had turned the corner, Quinn looked back into the Choir room. Rehearsal looked as if it had ended because everyone was gathering up their bags and awkwardly mingling before offering stilted goodbyes. Quinn recognized all of the students, though she couldn't say for sure that she could have correctly identified them. The Glee club really didn't consist of the kinds of fellow students she normally hung out with. She was popular. Well, Quinn mentally corrected, she used to be popular. Now, Quinn kind of considered herself to be a spastic freak.

The Choir room door opened and Quinn hadn't yet thought of leaving. She watched most of the Glee club pass her by, some of them giving her a soft hello as they hurried along. She didn't reply. She stood rooted to her little piece of tile until Rachel walked out of the Choir room hand in hand with Finn.

"Quinn," Rachel pulled to an abrupt stop when she noticed her friend. "Were you waiting for me? Is something wrong? I thought you had cheerleading practice?"

Quinn sort of hated the fact that Rachel didn't already know that she had quit cheerleading even though that's sort of how she wanted things to turn out. It was part of her grand plan of continuing to push Rachel Berry further away.

"I had to get a thing from my locker," Quinn lied. "Everything's not about you, Rachel."

Rachel was taken aback by Quinn's unprovoked aggression. "I didn't think…"

"Yeah," Quinn interrupted, "clearly."

Rachel's hand fell from Finn's. Quinn pretended not to notice. "Finn," Rachel asked the boy standing beside her, "could you give us a moment, please?"

Finn looked between the two girls. He looked grateful for the chance to escape. "I'll meet you outside," he declared and then quickly walked away with his eyes turned to the ground.

"That wasn't necessary," Quinn said as soon as Finn was out of earshot.

"What is going on with you?" Rachel asked, her eyes showing her concern.

Quinn looked at Rachel, really looked at Rachel for the first time in a while. Rachel looked healthy. She looked happy. And, Quinn knew that distancing herself from Rachel would hurt Rachel but it was a hurt that Rachel would recover from.

"What's going on with me really isn't any of your business," Quinn harshly replied. "I'm not your business."

Rachel reached out towards Quinn but Quinn stepped out of Rachel's reach. "Don't touch me with your man hands," Quinn warned.

The hurt Quinn had been expecting to see made an appearance from within Rachel's eyes. She told herself again that it would only hurt for a little while. "Go back to, Finn," Quinn took another step away from Rachel.

"Quinn," Rachel tried again, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

"I've got to go," Quinn interrupted again. She turned her back on Rachel and then walked away forcing herself to not look back. When she finally made it to an exit, she didn't care who might be watching, as she sped off away from the school. She kept on running faster and faster until she found herself standing alone in the middle of the nearest metropolis.

She stopped in a crowd of people too busy to notice her sudden appearance. She took in her surroundings and her senses quickly overloaded with the sounds of the city. She covered her ears and shut her eyes, but it didn't help. She hadn't been prepared for the influx of sensations.

She stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground and still pedestrians passed her by. She focused on her breathing trying to force calm in the chaos. When calm did come, Quinn was still lying unattended on the ground. She didn't know how long she had been struggling to gain control of her powers, but when she was once again in control she looked around at all the people still passing her by.

She briefly wondered if she ever would have been the person passing by someone struggling. Then, she reminded herself that she could hear people struggling every day and she chose to do nothing. Sometimes, she helped, reluctantly. She helped because she knew that it's what her parents would want her to do. It was what Rachel would have wanted her to do. But still, every day she passed by people in need of help. Even as she cried about her burdens and the friendships she couldn't maintain because of the powers she loathed, the powers that made her different.

She hadn't known where they came from and she didn't even really know how to control them. She treated them like a disease and had immediately begun isolating herself as they manifested. She hadn't thought they were contagious, but she did know that she could hurt people. She could unintentionally cause people pain. But, she could help people too and sometimes she forgot that.

It was especially easy to forget on the days when Rachel looked so in love as she sung a love song with Finn. Quinn looked down at her hands suddenly ashamed with how she had treated Rachel. She had hurt Rachel because Rachel had hurt her. Rachel had fallen in love so easily with someone else.

This wasn't hurt that felt like it would only last a little while. This was hurt that lasted, and there wasn't a damn thing Quinn was going to do about it. She took a deep breath and then looked around. Somewhere there had to be someone in pain she could focus on so that she could stop focusing on her own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, thank you for the reviews. Read and appreciated. **

**We're Lost/In the in between spaces/We're Lost/ Amongst dozens of faces/We're Lost/In life's heartless races**

Quinn had never entered the 'middle ground'. She was either all in or all out. There was no in between. All or nothing. That's the only way she knew how to live. So, when she made the decision to follow through on using her powers instead of mourning their existence, it really shouldn't have been a surprise that she moved forward without intention of looking back.

After wandering around her new metropolis, she had found it difficult to return to her small town so she didn't, not really. She took what money she had and spent it on a brunette wig, cheap glasses, a postcard and a pen. She filled out the postcard with weak words of goodbye and then placed it in her parents' mailbox. She packed a bag with a small selection of clothes when her parents weren't home and then went back to the city wearing her cheap wig and glasses.

She knew it wasn't the best disguise but she figured it would be enough to be overlooked in a crowd. She didn't want to be found. She wanted to get lost in the city where no one knew her and where no one cared. She sought solace in her anonymity.

She found a job as a bartender in a nightclub where the manager cared more about her body than her age. She was told to start immediately, and so she did. She tended bar though she didn't know the difference between a martini and a mixed drink but no one seemed to care about her lack of skill. They seemed more interested in the uniform she was told to wear which consisted only of a black vest and white leather pants.

But, she didn't focus on their stares. She watched the people surrounding her. She listened in on conversations and,she waited. She waited for the moment when someone in pain would be able to help her cover up her own.

The first night passed by. Nothing happened that the bouncer couldn't take care of, and Quinn learned how to make a Green Apple Martini and a Long Island Iced Tea. One of her coworkers upon discovering that she was essentially homeless offered her a place to stay for the night in their unoccupied basement. She took the offer. She fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as she was shown the old futon that was her bed. She woke up in the afternoon and then slipped quietly out of her coworker's home. During the day, she walked the streets trying to familiarize herself with her new home.

The second night passed by. Nothing happened that the bouncer couldn't take care of. Quinn _accidently_ spilt a drink on a customer who had grabbed her ass. The same coworker who had offered her a place to stay the previous night was off so Quinn had no place to go to after the club had closed. She walked the streets stopping petty thefts in the early morning hours. She saved a dog from being run over by a car, and stopped a car from being stolen. She didn't sleep. When dawn broke, she again walked the streets in an effort to memorize every hidden corner of the city.

The third night passed by. Again, nothing happened that the bouncer couldn't take care of. She hadn't overheard any of the patrons talking quietly about any dastardly plans. Quinn learned how to prepare more cocktails and took a few shots of vodka that were purchased for her by thankful customers. Her coworker had warned her not to imbibe, but Quinn ignored the advice. She continued drinking until last call and when the club closed she stumbled out the door arm in arm with a man whose name she couldn't remember. She woke up on a leather sofa in an unfamiliar apartment with the man's home phone in her hand. She rubbed at her eyes in a futile attempt to gain back the bits of memory that had gotten lost in her drunken haze. She didn't remember falling asleep on the sofa and certainly couldn't remember why she had a phone clutched in her hands as if it was her only lifeline. She ventured to look at the call logs and wasn't quite surprised when she saw a call going out to Rachel Berry's cell phone at 3:47 AM.

"Fuck," she whispered as she saw that the call had lasted for five minutes. That meant that Rachel had probably answered the phone. That meant that Quinn had two minutes to say things that were probably best left unsaid. She tried to desperately recall any bit of the conversation she might have had, but she couldn't.

"Sleeping Beauty wakes," the same man Quinn remembered stumbling out of the club with commented from an open doorway. "How'd you sleep?"

Quinn looked him over glad that he hadn't made an appearance in the nude. "Sleep?" She gave him a dubious look. "I thought it was called passing out."

"Well," he chuckled, "my mother taught me manners. I thought I'd say it nicely."

"Did she also teach you how to take advantage of young women?" She wasn't trying to be humorous. She was angry and felt the need to blame someone for the memories she had lost.

He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. "I take it you're not a morning person?"

She didn't appreciate his sarcasm. She rolled her eyes and stood up. "I need to get out of here," she muttered as she looked around seeking out anything in the immediate vicinity that might belong to her.

"Maybe you should stay for a bit." He didn't change his stance. He looked more relaxed than Quinn felt and she didn't like that he had so much control when she felt completely unhinged. "I'll cook you breakfast."

"Breakfast?" she scoffed. "No thanks. It's probably not a good idea for me to spend any more time with the man who takes random girls to his apartment.

"I'm not sure if this escaped your attention," again his voice was even and unfazed, "but you woke up on my sofa fully clothed. I'm pretty sure that means I'm not a predator."

"And that makes you even creepier," she accused. "You bring a girl home to, what, watch her sleep or something?"

He slowly uncrossed his arms and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "No, I brought you home so you would be safe."

She quickly opened her mouth to protest but he raised his hand to forestall her words. "I know you don't believe me," he shrugged. "But, chivalry isn't dead. So stay and let me make you breakfast. I'll even let you use my shower while I prepare the food."

Quinn looked down at her wrinkled clothes. She still wore her uniform from work and she smelled like she had been living in a dumpster. "Fine," she reluctantly gave in knowing that she could more than take care of herself if necessary.

"Okay," he smiled but he wasn't gloating. He seemed to know better than to do that. "I'll go ahead and start making the food." He walked away from the doorway and headed towards the kitchen. "The bathroom is through the bedroom. Towels are in the linen closet. Feel free to grab anything you need."

Quinn carefully watched him traverse through his own home. She could tell he was pretending not to notice. He focused on pulling out the ingredients for the meal that he was going to prepare and Quinn didn't turn away from him until he turned on the stove and started cooking. She walked into his bedroom, almost frightened of what she might find inside, and found herself to be disappointed when it looked like an average bedroom with a queen sized bed taking up most of the space.

The bathroom was no more spectacular than the bedroom. She looked through the linen closet and medicine cabinet and found nothing out of the ordinary. Still, she used her super speed when she took her shower not wanting to be nude for longer than necessary. She dressed in a clean shirt she had found in the man's dresser and put back on her white leather pants since she doubted he would have anything that would fit her.

She hung out in his bedroom for a while, not wanting him to question just how quickly she had showered. She looked through his things again not really finding anything of interest. He seemed…boring. Normal.

When she was satisfied that no skeletons or dead bodies were hidden in his room, she walked back out into the living room. Breakfast appeared to be ready and the table was set for two. "You're kind of weird," she declared as she sat down.

"I'll take that as a compliment this time." He sat down across from her.

She looked down at the scrambled eggs and bacon he had prepared and then picked up her fork. She hoped her superpowers prevented her from being able to be poisoned. She scooped up some eggs with her fork and slowly brought the food to her mouth. She bit down and chewed. She didn't die.

He shook his head as he watched her, but said nothing. Instead, he scooped up his own food and began eating. They ate in silence and he only spoke again when her plate was empty. "There's more if you want some," he offered.

Quinn looked down at her empty plate and then back to him. "Thank you."

He reached over and took her plate and then stood up so that he could get her more food. He piled her plate with eggs and bacon, double serving that time, handed it back to her and then sat back down.

"So," she cleared her throat. "What's your name?" She had finally grown tired of sitting across from a stranger.

"Clark," he replied. "Clark Kent. And you?"

"Quinn Fabray," she mumbled and then once again started eating.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for the reviews. And as always, thank you for reading.**

After her stomach had been filled, it hadn't taken a lot of effort for Clark to convince Quinn to stay. She needed a break from the streets. She was tired of wandering around not really knowing what the hell it was she was doing. Though, she was confident that she was doing something. There was a purpose to her skipping out on her parents, dropping out of school, and becoming a bartender in some club. There was a purpose because there had to be, even if she hadn't found out what that was yet.

She pushed all the questions out of her mind and tried to focus on doing something relatively normal for a change. Clark had gone off to work, trusting her alone with the keys to his apartment, and she had been trying to use the time to do something completely normal. She knew it was sad that watching daytime television was the most normal thing she could come up with, but it was better than anything else she could think of. It's not like she had a lot of options.

The only other people she knew in the city were her coworkers and she didn't really feel like hanging out with them. She didn't really feel like hanging out with anyone. She needed a break from people, but she quickly realized that taking a break from people meant that she was left alone with herself. And that was scary because she wasn't very fond of herself.

She didn't really like that she had drunk too much and followed some random guy home like a lost puppy or an inexperienced whore who wasn't smart enough to ask for cash up front. She also hated that she let herself get so out of control when she really didn't know what could happen with her unpredictable powers. She was like a drunk driver speeding towards someone else's early death.

And, to make everything a world of worse, she had drunk dialed Rachel Berry. She didn't know what she could have said, though she kind of knew what she wanted to say. She just hoped she didn't really say it.

Quinn dropped the remote from her hands. She hated daytime television. She got up from the sofa and then quickly left the apartment barely remembering to lock the door behind her. When she reached the street she took off, relying on her super speed to remain hidden from the common observer. She didn't run through the streets of the city as she had before.

She instead went to the place she was trying to leave behind. She went to her high school while class was in session and no one cared to see who might be standing off in the distance watching. She felt kind of pervy spying like that, but she didn't want to get too close. She didn't want anyone to think that she was coming back.

So, she found the window where Rachel should have been in class. She climbed up a tree and sat on its branches. She watched the teacher drawing out circles on the white board. She saw students in various levels of attentiveness. Nothing really seemed different. Everything was going on exactly like it had been before.

Quinn sought out Rachel and saw her best friend sitting with her head down writing in a notepad. Quinn could tell that Rachel wasn't paying attention to the lecture. She seemed lost in thought, maybe a little distracted. She was probably thinking about Finn Hudson and writing his name in her notebook with little hearts and smiley faces.

Quinn leaned forward trying to see if she could make out what it was Rachel was writing, but she couldn't make anything out. She wasn't at the right angle and she wasn't quite sure how to turn on her ridiculously keen eyesight. So, she just stared at Rachel instead and made up stories about how Rachel was making up stories about Finn.

She was caught off guard when Rachel's head lifted and brown eyes turned to meet hers. Quinn was caught up in them until she realized that Rachel hadn't just lifted her head to stare out the window. Rachel was looking at _her_. Rachel could see _her_.

Quinn tried to jerk out of Rachel's line of sight but miscalculated her balance and then fell. She didn't think about flying gracefully to the ground; she forgot that she could fly. So, she fell unceremoniously onto the grass. After she landed, she took inventory of her body trying to figure out if anything was broken. She wasn't entirely sure how indestructible she was.

"Quinn!" It was unmistakably Rachel's voice.

Quinn briefly considered getting up and running away, but she didn't think Rachel wouldn't notice her taking off at near the speed of light. "Go back to class, Berry," Quinn ordered.

"I assume since you're talking that means you're not dead," Rachel sarcastically replied. "Because until last night I was convincing myself that you could be dead."

"I'm not dead," Quinn needlessly announced. "Now go back to class."

"You're a very frustrating person, Quinn." Rachel moved closer to Quinn.

"Two peas in the pod, you and me," Quinn muttered and then finally moved to sit up. "Now go back to class." She just wanted to fly away, but she couldn't. People weren't supposed to be able to fly.

Rachel opened her mouth but no words fell. She looked like she had plenty to say, and Quinn braced herself for the vitriol that was coming her way but as she waited the only thing between them was silence. Rachel had a lot to say, but she wasn't going to say any of it.

Quinn squinted and looked up to Rachel. "Go back to class." She tried again.

Rachel looked away and then quickly back to her friend. She reached out and rested her hand briefly on Quinn's shoulder and then pulled away. "So you are real," she whispered.

"I'm not staying," Quinn quickly moved out of Rachel's reach. "I have this thing I have to get to."

"So you're going to disappear again?" Rachel tried to look like Quinn's distance didn't affect her. "Should I expect another call from you in the middle of the night?"

"About that," Quinn looked away. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Really?" Rachel sounded incredulous. "Because you were so drunk I'm pretty sure you don't even remember it."

"Whatever I said," Quinn shook her head, "it's probably not something worth paying attention to."

"I know." Rachel looked to the ground. "So go back and forget about the fact that I'm a person, too. Just think about yourself. You're good at that."

"That's not," Quinn began to say but Rachel quickly interrupted her.

"I need to go back to class." Rachel moved further away.

"Rachel," Quinn reached out, but stopped herself before she caught hold of Rachel's arm. "I'm…" She wasn't the person Rachel thought.

Rachel turned back to Quinn as if she had heard Quinn's unspoken words. "Did you really think I would judge you?" She spit out, no longer able to hold it all in.

Quinn didn't answer because she didn't know what question she would be answering.

"My dads are gay, Quinn." Rachel added as if Quinn's answer should have been obvious. "Why would I judge you?"

"I don't know," Quinn replied trying not to volunteer any information.

"Being gay isn't the end of the world." Rachel looked so disappointed. "I just wish you would have told me this while you were sober."

"Gay?" Quinn was finally catching on. "I told you that I'm gay?"

"I know your parents would have had a hard time with it, but…" Rachel stepped closer to Quinn, "you could have come to me. You didn't have to run away and become another tragic statistic."

Quinn looked up at the sky and heavily sighed. Of all the deep dark secrets she was keeping the only one she wanted to confess to while drunk was that she was gay. She was more messed up than she thought.

Rachel broke the invisible barrier between them. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck. "Nothing's wrong with you, Quinn."

Quinn lifted her arms to wrap around Rachel's waist, but she couldn't embrace her friend. She wasn't quite ready for the comfort she was being offered. She wasn't ready to start figuring things out. She was still wallowing in the bitterness of how unfair her life was.

Rachel's arms dropped from around Quinn's neck. She looked into Quinn's eyes but Quinn couldn't hold the gaze. "I've got a thing I need to get to," she said and then walked away. As soon as she was far enough she took to the air and went back to Clark Kent's apartment.

Once inside, she settled back onto his sofa and turned back on his television. She tuned it to a reality television series, hoping to find some real life somewhere instead of the surreal one she was living in.


	6. Chapter 6

**As always, thank you for your reviews. And please continue to thank TouristSeason and lbcn (tumblr) for their commitment to make this fic happen. **

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The ties that bound Quinn to everyone were delicate. They could be stretched to the point of breaking. She could already feel them beginning to strain and snap. Distance didn't make the heart grow fonder. Distance made Quinn's heart implode upon knowledge that had hidden itself outside of her peripheral view.

The things that connected her to her parents could be measured in memories that ultimately made her feel even more alone. Her childhood had consisted of her parents telling her about all the things she was supposed to do without them telling her why. They fabricated a perfect family inside the confines of a storybook life. The words on the page were sacrosanct, and reading behind the lines was strictly forbidden.

What was, was. Hopes were kept within reason. Dreams were bound by logic. Nightmares were merely brushed away with ridicule.

Don't question. Just do.

So, when Quinn slowly began discovering how she no longer fit into the storybook she began to withdraw. She began to lie. Perhaps ridiculously, she also began to do the right thing. She used her powers to help her parents. She used them to help strangers. She used them to help Rachel against the bullies that would so often single Rachel out, and she felt good for doing it. Sort of.

Quinn had watched cartoons. She knew that the girl/boy who came upon great strength was for some reason obligated to use the strength for great good. It was another thing she was supposed to do without really knowing why.

Save the people in the world. Save the world. Find the hero inside. Awaken the strength that was always hidden away in the depths of a righteous soul. Dress up in spandex. Pick a cliché and make it a motto. Pretend to be normal.

With wig on and glasses firmly in place, a costume now a part of her work attire, Quinn pretended. She went to work and she served her patrons. She worked through the night watching over everyone trying to find her moment to find the hero inside, but no one was in need of a hero.

When the nightclub closed, she walked the streets. Clark was still letting her stay with him and she was willing to use his sofa as a bed. By the time she walked into his apartment in the early morning he was close to waking to ready for work.

They had established a routine. He would wake, shower and then kindly cook them breakfast. Quinn would share the meal, go to sleep, waste time when she woke and then prepare dinner. Clark came home, they shared another meal and then Quinn would go off to work.

It was simple, and since they didn't see each other it meant Quinn didn't know much about Clark and he didn't know much about her. They were roommates with the sole benefits of cooked meals and a balm for complete loneliness.

The predictability of the routine made things feel a little bit like normal. It also allowed Quinn to gain distance from her past normal. It opened up her mind to question the things that were sacrosanct. It made her wonder why she was trying so hard to be a hero.

Heroes always suffered in the end.

They lost their great loves. Their families were targets to nemeses. Their psyche was tortured by psychopaths. They carried the weight of the world and were always demanded to do more.

Self-sacrifice had never been one of Quinn's strong suits. She was inherently selfish. She didn't want to suffer the human race's woes.

Trying something new for a change, Quinn stopped looking for people to save at the nightclub. When she got off work, she took off her wig and removed her glasses. She walked the streets not seeking out a moment to step in and save the day.

She walked through the darkness alone absorbing the feel of the night. She started to notice all the things that came out without light to shine upon it. She saw the homeless trying to stay warm in feeble structures close to crumbling down. Drug dealers handed out false strength to those coping with life's darkness. Petty thieves stole from twenty-four hour stores because a pack of cigarettes and a six pack of beer cost too much. Women walked the streets offering an hour of happiness for a small fee to be paid up front.

Their darkness covered Quinn and she was able to take in a deep breath of her own. Her parents weren't around to tell her which road pointed to perfection. Colors were being added to the black and white storybook her life had been read from.

Quinn rolled her shoulders and then approached one of the women she had seen exit a satisfied customer's car. Their eyes met as she approached. The woman's survival extinct kicked into overdrive quickly trying to determine friend versus foe.

"You look too high class to be here, girlie," the woman said. False bravado was etched into the edges of her words.

"Maybe," Quinn admitted, "but I'm here anyway."

The woman cocked her head to the side. "You interested in some fun?"

A type of fun, perhaps. "No." Quinn shook her head. "But I would like to make you a proposition."

"Go home, girlie," the woman turned away. "I'm not going to teach you the tricks of the trade."

"Good, because I don't want to learn them." Quinn stepped closer. "I want to offer you…" She searched for the right word, and then finally settled upon, "liberation".

"You a Jesus freak?" Dubious eyes looked over Quinn again. "Cause there ain't no saving this soul."

Belief in God had started to wane when her powers began to emerge. "I'm not going to try to save you. I just want to let you do your work and offer my assistance."

The woman began to laugh raucously. "Baby, I already got me a pimp."

"I'm sure you do," Quinn agreed. "But, can he guarantee that every car you enter you will also exit?"

"Ain't no one can guarantee that but God," still said with a voice full of sarcastic doubt.

No one had promised Quinn an easy fight. "Let me try anyway."

"You're kind of a fucked up chick arentcha?"

Quinn shrugged. "The jury is still out deciding that."

A raised brow offered no more belief than before. "Tell ya what, girlie, you watch out for all of us tonight. Then, we can see if you can come back tomorrow."

"And tonight's profits?" She wasn't going to work for free. People didn't become millionaires working for free.

The woman laughed. "We'll see, High Class. You don't pay for a car before takin' it on a test drive first do ya?"

"Okay." Quinn reached out her hand. "I guess you can call me…High Class."

"Alright," the woman nodded towards a car parked against the curb, "get to work, High Class."

Quinn looked to the car and to the prostitute climbing into the passenger seat. She memorized the car's details and then watched it as it drove off. She did the same for the next three cars that pulled up and then sped off to follow them to their locations. She overlooked the women at work and waited for the when she was needed.

The moment came quickly and when she began to see it happen, she ripped open the car door and then threw the man out onto the street. He cursed at her and tried to fight back. He threw a punch at her face and she stopped his fist in mid air before it ever had a chance of making contact.

"Not nice," she told him.

He continued to curse, but this time in pain instead of anger. She had broken his hand.

"Pay my friend a little extra and then go home," she ordered and then released him from her grip.

He stared dumbly at her, and then with as much pride as he could muster asked, "Who the fuck are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

The answer was confusing for both of them, but it satisfied him enough. He stumbled back to his car, his hand cradled against his body. He threw what cash he had on him at the woman sitting awestruck in his car.

One profitable deed done, Quinn sped off again to check on her other employers. The night carried on and she stepped up when necessary keeping her word to give liberation to the women who were caught within the reins of the men who picked them up.

When the dawn breached the night, Quinn was told she could come back. She was even given a two-hundred dollar tip. She took her money and then returned to Clark's apartment. He watched her as she entered, making sure she had returned completely intact.

"Was it a busy night?" He wondered.

The question was inane, but still Quinn felt defensive. "It was my night," she answered. It was her business.

Clark's eyes widened, unsure of which mine he had inadvertently stumbled upon. "Okay. Breakfast is ready."

Before Quinn sat down at the table, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the two-hundred dollars she had just made. "For rent," she said as she threw it down.

Something shifted in the room as Clark looked down at the wad of cash. It rested between the two occupants waiting for _something_ to become of the _nothing _that previously stood as the glass door separating them.

"I'm guessing you have a story I don't want to hear?" The glass was shattered.

"Perhaps," Quinn guessed, "we each have a story we don't want to tell."

Clark nodded. "We should eat," he quickly acquiesced to silence. "I have to go to work soon."

They each took their seats and then began eating letting their souls be healed from the balm to loneliness they each freely offered.


	7. Chapter 7

There was something about the countdown to darkness that thrilled her. She had stepped into a new world that others might consider a small piece of Hell, but she felt well hidden in its chaos. Everything she had to do was by instinct. It wasn't about thinking through the cause and effect or weighing the pros and cons. She just acted, and she let everything else slip away.

In this new world she was no longer bound to the Quinn Fabray of yesteryear. She could hide behind her own shadow and remind herself that she didn't care about Lima, Ohio. She didn't care about the life she had run from on impulse. She cared nothing for her friends. She cared nothing for her family. She cared nothing for adolescent love.

There was no listening to pangs of regret that filtered into her consciousness during the daylight hours. She could sleep those hours away in the quiet of a too small apartment she shared with a man she hardly knew. Even her fairy tale dreams were slowly evolving to include the darkness she readily sought out. The dreams of marriage, of family, of...everything were fading away.

After work, Quinn threw off her wig and set aside the innocence of a girl caught up in the consequences of being a runaway. She walked to the dark corners so that she could be embraced by the comforts of being a stranger surrounded by strangers. In this world no one knew her name. There was no one to define her. She was just…a woman they called High Class not because she didn't belong but because she did.

They accepted that they might never know her real name as she knew that she might never know theirs. They were all undefined runaways coming together to etch out some sort of existence. Quinn prevented violent deranged men from committing horrific acts upon a population long forgotten to the outside world. No one asked too many questions perhaps somehow knowing that Quinn wouldn't answer them, and perhaps because they were afraid she would disappear.

Trust didn't come easily, but Quinn wasn't even sure trust was something she was seeking. She had no desire for these misfits to become reliant on her. She wasn't looking to feel needed. That's the last thing she wanted, but still…

"You're doing too much thinking, High Class," Skippy, one of Quinn's charges commented as she straightened her clothes from another successful transaction.

Quinn turned her eyes towards the young woman standing next to her. She briefly wondered how old Skippy might be and even bothered to imagine what it would be like to trade places with her peer. Could Quinn be the one exiting the cars instead of the one watching over in silent scrutiny?

"That sounded almost like an insult," Quinn finally replied, her eyes turning back to the street.

"Take it how you'd like." Skippy reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She reached in removed two before placing the pack back in her pocket. "Just thought I'd betta say somethin' 'fore your head exploded."

Quinn forced a smirk as reached up and tapped her fist against her head. "I wouldn't worry about that. A lot of people have called me hard headed."

"You don't say?" Skippy said around the cigarettes she had between her lips, now both lit. She removed one and offered it to Quinn.

Quinn looked down at it, not sure if she was being offered a hand of friendship or an invitation further into her descent. So she looked over her companion again. What kind of a name was Skippy anyway, she thought. What kind of person went around owning up to the name Skippy?

"Thanks," she said as she took the cigarette and brought it to her lips. She was supposed to be opening up her arms to this world. She'd just have to see if it was going to throw her down to the ground to remind her that she couldn't turn into someone else. "So what kind of name is Skippy, anyway?"

The smoke didn't burn through her lungs like she suspected it should. It felt more like an act of habit than one of satisfaction. It seemed that her powers would deny her yet another human experience.

Skippy laughed. "You not actually takin' an interest in who I am are ya?" She ran her hand through her long dark hair, a clear act of nerves. "We all kind of thought High Class didn't consort with us common folk."

"Consort?" Quinn questioned not the meaning behind the word but the usage of it. She ignorantly assumed that words like 'consort' were outside of Skippy's lexicon. She made assumptions about the people she _consorted_ with just like everyone else did. Whether that was right or wrong, Quinn hadn't decided.

"You kinda of a bitch arentcha, High Class?" Skippy asked, more amused by Quinn's austerity than offended by it. She was a girl used to being branded as one thing and one thing only. She wasn't the poster child for fighting stereotypes. She was a young minority, high school dropout, lost in the system youth, living in a pay by the week motel, whose father had abandoned her before she was born, and whose mother was serving time in prison due to crimes committed while under the influence. She wasn't about to broaden anyone's horizon's anytime soon nor was she particularly interested in doing so.

"I try," Quinn joked as she gave into a small smile. It was the most genuine she had given in a while. She was more relaxed now that some pretense that lay between her and Skippy had been pushed away.

"Don't try too hard," Skippy warned. Her tone was still light, but it was warning nonetheless. One that Quinn wasn't entirely sure she could take seriously.

"Why?" She wondered aloud.

"Because it's condescending," Skippy explained, "and some of us still have our pride. We don't mind giving up our safety for the little bit of self worth we got left."

The articulated fact, slapped Quinn across the face like a rude awakening. She realized that she was stepping into this world as a guest. They had not made her family because she had not yet proved herself. She had not yet shown any credentials past her ability to raise her fist.

"I bet you go someplace fancy when you leave here." Skippy pulled her cigarette from her lips. "And you get all the feel good emotions from having saved the few and the ugly."

"I don't…" Quinn began to say but Skippy quickly interrupted.

"Hey, let's not make this a thing, High Class. It's easy to see you're escaping a world that's too much for ya right now."

"You can see that?" Quinn whispered.

Skippy gave a soft sardonic laugh. "I've been forty since I was five. I see lots of stuff I wish I didn't."

"Do they all see what you see?" Quinn asked with sincere curiosity. She wanted to know what people saw when they looked at her.

"Are we bondin'?" Skippy asked in lieu of giving an answer. Somehow, she knew that Quinn needed to hold onto a sense of anonymity that her answer wouldn't maintain.

Quinn rolled her eyes and turned away. "I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with you."

"And I'm beginnin' to think you're even stupider than you look," Skippy quickly rejoined. "I'm also beginnin' to think that tonight's a bust. I'm not making enough money to stand out here in the cold. My tits are 'bout to freeze off."

Quinn looked back out towards the other women milling about. They were all huddled together, stray eyes every once in a while managed to turn towards her and Skippy, but it seemed like everyone was just trying to stay warm.

"Maybe you should call it a night," Skippy softly suggested. "We're clear out once you do."

"Me?" Quinn asked confused. "Why me?"

Skippy raised a disbelieving brow. "You serious?"

Her answer would be admittance to ignorance she didn't want to give, so Quinn remained quiet. She placed a silent bet that Skippy would offer more unprovoked advice since thus far Skippy was the first and only tour guide Quinn had acquired.

"So it's brawn without the brains," Skippy dropped her cigarette to the ground, "ain't that a shame."

Quinn threw her own cigarette to the ground and watched it slowly burn out as its fire died on the pavement. "That's the second time you've called me stupid," she idly commented. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped."

"Hmm," Skippy intoned as her eyes rested on the same cigarette butt Quinn was so focused on. "I've been insulting you since I been standin'. Was sort of wonderin' when you'd stand up for yourself."

Widened eyes turned to Skippy, then. Quinn had the distinct feeling that she had just been horribly outmaneuvered.

Skippy slowly lifted her own gaze to meet Quinn's. "I got the name Skippy because when the police found me at the age of three alone in my apartment I didn't even know my own damn name. So the officers named me after the jar of peanut butter I'd been living off of."

"I'm sor…" Quinn began to apologize.

"Don't," Skippy interrupted. "I didn't do this little show and tell so that you would feel sorry for me."

"I don't," Quinn tried to defend herself but was again interrupted by Skippy's abrupt dismissal.

"The way I see it, only one of us really has a shot of gettin' outta here alive," Skippy paused, letting her words sink into Quinn's selfish little state of mind. "And right now? I'm not bettin' on you."

"Don't worry about me," Quinn brushed another warning away. "I'm pretty strong."

"You don't have to kill the body to kill the soul," Skippy murmured.

"Why are you even still talking to me?" Quinn asked as she turned away from the conversation because she wasn't ready to hear what Skippy was trying to tell her. She wanted to stay in the darkness that covered her. She wanted to let all of her dreams die away so that they wouldn't hurt quite so much anymore.

It had been near a month since the last time she had bothered to fly home to peek into the windows of the house she once lived in. It had been almost a month since she had spoken to Rachel and felt like she had a friend that might actually give a damn whether she lived or died. It had been a month since she walked away so that she could build a future without death and destruction as her fate.

Skippy sighed heavily. She wrapped her arms around her body defending herself against the stubborn attack against her own cruel experiences. "You saved my life," she admitted. "The first night you came, you saved me, and that can only be made right if I returned the favor."

"I don't need saving."

Seeking a risk worth taking, Skippy uncurled her arms from around her body and then reached out her hand and placed it on Quinn's shoulder. "Good, 'cause neither did I." It was lie to pay back a lie. "Let's go get something to eat. I'll treat you to something from the nearest dollar menu."

Quinn didn't dare to look at the hand resting on her shoulder. She didn't know what she'd do if she did look, because suddenly she felt like she was standing somewhere on the precipice between tears and rage.

"I have a prior breakfast thing." She said, taking the easy out. She hadn't missed breakfast with Clark yet, and she didn't know what breaking her routine might shatter.

Skippy looked over Quinn, her hand was still resting on Quinn's shoulder. She didn't know whether she could believe Quinn's immediate refusal, but she also knew she couldn't push too hard. She let her hand fall slowly from Quinn's shoulder. "Another time then."

Quinn closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Maybe lunch?" The words escaped on her exhale. Neither she nor Skippy had expected them. They came like the intrusion of light upon a darkened room.

"Lunch is cool," Skippy nodded and then turned to walk away. "I'll meet you at Angie's Diner," she said over her shoulder instinctively knowing that she needed to leave before Quinn captured the words that had unexpectedly escaped.

Finally, Quinn opened her eyes so that she could watch Skippy walk away. In the last ten minutes she had just had the first real conversation she'd had in almost a month. It hadn't quite managed to measure up to the easy conversations she used to have with Rachel as they sat in Rachel's room making fanciful plans for their lives, but nothing would ever measure up to that.

It helped that Skippy wasn't trying to decipher every one of Quinn's secrets. The young woman just wanted to pay back a favor. Quinn wasn't even sure a potential friendship could become part of the complicated relational equation they were balancing out. They hadn't exactly met under blue skies as schoolgirls attending the same class.

They'd just have to see how lunch turned out.

Quinn took one last look at her charges and then turned and walked away. Skippy had been right, the night was slow and there was no reason for anyone to stand out in the cold. Skippy might even be right about all the other girls sticking around because Quinn did, but Quinn didn't turn around to find out if she was the one to disperse the thin crowd. She didn't want to bear witness to her new mantle of responsibility.

So, she walked away and then flew away back to Clark's apartment where breakfast was made and Clark was waiting. "Have you been up long?" She asked as she walked into the apartment.

"No," Clark answered as he turned away from Quinn's inquiring gaze. "How was your night?" he asked as he poured orange juice into two cups.

"Nothing special," Quinn answered having adopted Skippy's rules of transaction—one lie to pay back another. "How was your night?"

"Slept like a baby," he forced a smile and then turned away.

The difference between this conversation and the one she had had with Skippy was that neither she nor Clark were brave enough to push the other to tell the truth. So they sat and they ate in silence. Quinn let second thoughts about her planned lunch with Skippy run rampant and Clark look absently at his plate. It was like they were sitting in an empty room alone. The miles of seclusion could be felt pushing in the walls.

Maybe Skippy was right about something else, too; one didn't have to kill a body to kill a soul.

With those nearly voiceless words ringing in Quinn's ears, Quinn set down her fork and then reached out and grabbed onto Clark's hand.

Clark's startled blue eyes looked up to Quinn and then down to their touching hands. Slowly, his fingers curled around hers. Neither of them were ready to speak any words that might build the bridge between them, but for right now…for now this was enough.


End file.
